


strike

by progfox



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/progfox/pseuds/progfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon Kuwata is not as dead as they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strike

**Author's Note:**

> thi s was a thing i did on the [kink meme](http://superhighschoollevelsmut.dreamwidth.org/558.html?thread=208174#cmt208174)  
> im just posting this here bc maybe now people can remind me to continue it and im really tired (its like 3:30am) and now seems like a good time to post some fanfic for the first time in three months

He can hardly breathe.  
  
Leon Kuwata lays in the dirt next to the scoreboard. Alive, next to the scoreboard. Broken and bleeding and barely keeping his bruised eyes open. Right beneath the spot where he was meant to die.  
  
He struggles to push himself up but he swears his bones will only crack further if he tries too hard, and he slumps against the ground again. Every little twitch forces a sharp intake of breath, pained hissing accompanying each one. It hurts to breathe and it hurts to move and it hurts to be alive and god, why isn't he dead? He's supposed to be dead.  
  
Strike one.  
  
Leon hears the sound of Monobear's signature laugh and tries to flick his gaze up at the hideous thing, twisting his neck ever so slightly. It's hardly worth the effort.  
  
"Surprise, bastard!" Monobear sweats and smiles, looking all flustered and it's disgusting. "I left out one little detail when I explained the rules, didn't I?"  
  
If he could move without flinching Leon would smash the little fucker. Definitely a death worth dying.  
  
"You'll be glad to know that you'll still be free to watch the mutual killing game!" he continues, as though it were something to be happy about. "Wouldn't want to let the murderers miss out on the fun, would I?"  
  
The words hardly pierce the fog clouding Leon's mind. It's all meaningless; all he cares is getting the fuck out of here. He's vaguely preoccupied with a sort of hopeful thought. If he's still alive, then maybe...? It's unlikely, and Leon should know this, but it's suddenly all he can think of. Can't hurt to ask, can it?  
  
"H-hey..."  
  
Apparently, it can; his throat is raw from shrieking and he can hardly move his mouth without a twinge of pain shooting through his jaw.  
  
"M-Maizono-chan and...Enosh-shima...'re they still...?"  
  
"Alive?" Thankfully, Monobear finishes the question for him. "Nope! You'll never get your little idol back, upupu~!"  
  
Shit shit _shit_ it's exactly what he should've expected and exactly what he didn't want to hear.  
  
Strike two.  
  
He's almost numb, half-conscious and he doesn't realize the collar's still wrapped around his neck until Monobear begins to drag him along the dirt. He's hit the point where he is hardly aware of anything around him; Monobear's taunts are a dull drone in the back of his throbbing head and each sudden movement strikes another nerve.  
  
Everything is fading slowly, soon he will be out and he can breathe a sigh of relief, but there's just one more thing he needs to know. Leon glances toward Monobear again and he has to strain just to keep his eyes on the headmaster.  
  
"Wh...wh-where're ya...?" His raspy voice trembles, sounding nearly choked as if he has to force each syllable from his lips and he can't finish his thought, but Monobear understands.  
  
"Have to make sure you don't die, don't we, bastard?" he says, keeping his eyes firmly on the path ahead. "Don't worry. You'll be just fine..."  
Somehow the words fail to reassure him.  
  
"I'll get you back on your feet as soon as I can~!" Monobear laughs. "I can't promise that'll be any time soon, however. Those baseballs really did a number on you, didn't they?"  
  
Leon's first instinct is to spit expletives in the sadistic fucker's face, growl threats under his breath, but it's a waste. Every thought he tries to voice seems to rip at his vocal cords and it's hardly a whisper, anyway. It's a waste of energy he doesn't have, willpower he can't muster, but it hardly matters, anyway.  
  
Because it's strike three. He's out.


End file.
